Downfall
by xfailingxheartbeatx
Summary: Years ago, Mako's little brother went missing off the streets. Now he's returned with an order: Kill Avatar Korra. Raised by the Equalists and plagued by self-doubt, will Bolin join the side of light or be doomed to remain in the dark?
1. Parting

So since the season finale has been aired, and Amon finally has a canon background story (and my onset of episode withdrawal), I decided to post this little plot that's been bouncing around inside my skull for a while. Because we need more Bolin-centric, multi-chapter fics here, am I right?

Summary: _Years ago, Mako's little brother went missing off the streets. Now he's returned with an order: Kill Avatar Korra. Raised by the Equalists and plagued by self-doubt, will Bolin join the side of light or be doomed to remain in the dark?_

Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar or any of it's awesome characters. *bursts into tears like Bolin*

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The day Bolin discovered he was an earthbender was anything but a joyful occasion.

He and Mako were caught in scuffle with two thugs, who showed up in the night, intent on taking what little the orphaned siblings had to their name. They weren't benders, so it should've been a short fight—what with Mako's super cool firebending skills! At least that's what Bolin had been hoping for, when Mako abruptly collapsed, landing on the painful pavement below.

"Mako!" shrieked Bolin, realizing that without his brother beside him, he was as good as gone.

"Well, well, well," one thug cooed amusedly. "Baby bro's all alone. Who's gonna save you now, street rat?"

Bolin's face flushed with indignation. Sure, he was no stranger to the taunts and jeers of the upper class, the mixed reactions of pity and disgust when he was spotted on the street. But to have this cruel, sadistic punk say such a thing when he was no better himself sent anger coursing through his veins like a rockslide.

Fury burning brightly inside his body, Bolin felt the pulse of the earth beneath their feet, felt _connected_ to the earth itself, and with with a stomp of his foot, the ground began to tremble. Letting instinct guide his movement, he raised a slab of rock out of the ground and sent it hurtling towards his attacker.

It landed a direct blow, and the thug flew backwards into his accomplice.

"Ack!" the goon coughed, spewing up chunks of dirt. He wiped the mixture of mud and blood from his lips and scowled. "Damn it! Little twerp's a _bender!" _They proceeded to make a hasty retreat, tails between their legs.

Pride filled Bolin at having defeated the bullies himself, and euphoria welled when he realized he'd done so as an _earthbender._ Wait until Mako—

The color drained from Bolin's face as remembered why he'd had to take on the thugs solo in the first place.

He rushed to Mako's side and discovered him only semi-conscious, drifting in and out of a state of stupor. Feeling his head, Bolin also found a temperature.

"It's okay, bro," he assured, more to calm his own rapid heartbeat, rather than his dazed sibling. "I know you hate healers, and you warned me never to talk to strangers, but you never said what to do if you got sick!"

Fear controlling his actions, Bolin managed to haul Mako onto his feet, keeping his brother upright by lifting most of his weight. Grunting, the eight-year-old started the pain-staking trek to the only doctor he knew of that would bother to give the orphans a second glance.

Master Mu was a tough, wise old broad who was known throughout Republic City as a doctor to the poor. Rarely did she ever ask for compensation for her treatment, especially with the knowledge that her patients couldn't afford a pricey medical bill. The hour was late, but still, Bolin prayed that her famed charity was not just a rumor.

He knocked once. Waited. No reply. So he knocked a second time, and a third, he'd keep it up all night if he had to.

Finally, the door swung open, revealing a very irritated old woman. She scowled right over their heads, searching for whomever had the nerve to awaken her. "Great Spirits, somebody better be dying!"

The eight-year-old's concern increased ten-fold.

"Please," Bolin pleaded on Mako's behalf, despite the older's delirious protests. Instantly, the healer's expression softened at his frightened features. "Help my brother. _Please."_

With a sigh of relent, she held open the door and said, "Bring him in."

After a swift examination, she delivered the bad news.

Mako was sick. Terribly sick.

_Malnutrition,_ the healer repeated twice, because Bolin had trouble with large words. She went on to list a few more like _dehydration_ and _near hypothermia. _Bolin hated lengthy terms, since they scarcely meant anything good.

She went on to explain that, basically, Mako wasn't being fed enough and hadn't been sleeping warmly. Which was unfortunately very common in street children—however, as she pointed out, Bolin seemed to have luckily escaped any of these ailments. In the eight-year-old's mind, it might as well have been as accusation.

Bolin felt pretty darn sick himself at the revelation.

While he wasn't the most well-fed child in the city, Mako always made sure he never starved. Mako always assured Bolin that they had enough water for him to sip, and of course, there was no need to worry about hogging the blanket. They had plenty of warmth to spare (though this rarely stopped Bolin's cuddling tendencies).

And in making sure his brother was cared for, Mako had deprived himself of these necessities.

For the first time in his young life, Bolin began to see their situation with absolute clarity. The parts Mako tried so desperately to blot out, the bad things he constantly hid Bolin from. Like the fact that they were poor, struggling, and for all intense purposes, mere children striving to survive in an unfit environment.

Just because Bolin saw his big brother as a superhero, that didn't automatically make him one. They weren't invincible like innocence allowed him to believe. They were all too vulnerable...

Now Bolin understood why Mako had hidden away the truth. Knowing the odds they were up against wound his stomach up like a knot. His eyes burned wetly at the ache in his chest and the pain atop his back. It felt like an enormous burden had been shifted onto his shoulders, and _wow,_ was this the weight Mako carried everyday?

It was entirely too heavy for Bolin's shoulders to stand, as he crumbled beneath it like no self-respecting earthbender should, consumed by the sudden realization that only a really brave person like Mako would be strong enough to handle that kind of pressure.

But Bolin, to his immense disappointment, had never been quite the man his brother was. In fact, he considered himself quite cowardly. Because rather than stay and be prepared to die cold, hungry, and homeless beside his brother, _together,_ Bolin ran. Ran from such a scary scenario.

Because Bolin couldn't bear to watch his brother die and leave like their parents had. He loved too much, loved his Mako too much, and decided that dying alone was the preferred alternative.

In his mind, it made sense. Without a helpless little brother to raise, Mako's odds of surviving would rise astronomically. His would decline, but... _Maybe,_ Bolin thought, worrying his lower lip, _maybe that was for the best._

After all, his brother had been willing to die for his sake. Shouldn't he be able to return the favor?

Mako might never forgive him, perhaps even learn to hate him. Which was okay, Bolin supposed glumly, though it broke his heart all the same. _At least he'll be safe._

He waited until the day Master Mu announced that Mako would make a full recovery. Saying goodbye never brought anything but tears, so Bolin simply sat with his brother and committed his features to memory, so he wouldn't forgot Mako like he had mostly forgotten their mom and dad. As dusk approached and Master Mu returned from making her rounds, he told himself it was time.

That night, whilst the healer tended to his brother's frail form, Bolin snuck into the depths of Republic City and vowed never to return.

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Whelp, that's Part One of a Two-Part Prologue. Did you like? Did you not? Should I continue quickly? Tell me what you think, fair readers!


	2. Meeting

Disclaimer: Me no own, unfortunately.

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In one's darkest hour, they say a light always appears at the end of the tunnel.

For Bolin, this light came in the form of a flame.

Cornered, thin, and defenseless; up against men thrice his size with years of surpassing experience. Bolin's earthbending was barely developed. Definitely nowhere near a level that would be able to save his life.

Which continued to dwindle as the weeks passed by. Without his brother's support and care, Bolin withered quite quickly. _Just like I thought,_ a resentful voice inside his mind huffed. _Weak._

And he certainly appeared so, whimpering and cowering amidst a downpour of freezing rain, waiting for the cackling hounds of death to descend upon him. The gangster's hand was reaching for his neck, so Bolin shut his eyes tight, wondering what Mom and Dad would say if they met each other again.

Unless he went where the bad people go, for abandoning his brother, even though his intentions had been good. The road to the bad place was paved with those.

Grabbed by the scruff of his neck, the firebender pinned him to the wall and lit his fist up with fire. It's flickering glare danced across Bolin's wide eyes, and the gangster smirked, relishing in his terror. "See this, squirt? _This_ is what we do to rotten little street thieves like you."

To be fair, he hadn't intentionally meant to steal from this particular pair of hoodlums. The hunger had merely become too gnawing to ignore, and they were nearby. Now, as the gangster brought back his fiery fist and Bolin's only defense was to shield himself with his arm, he regretted that despair-driven decision. At least starving to death didn't burn like the bad place.

Bolin screamed as agony encased his arm. It hurt so, _so_ bad, but he didn't dare move it, afraid to let the horrible heat touch his face. _I don't want to die, _he thought, as the fire receded and the man chuckled cruelly and reached for his neck again. _Not like this, please, please, I want my brother, I want Mako, I want somebody, please—_

Then the firebender leg go, abruptly, and Bolin released a wretched sob. As the pain began to lessen, and the cold rain soothed the scorching skin, he looked up to see why his would-be-murderer had spared him unanticipatedly.

That's when he saw _him._ He stood tall, dark, foreboding and wrathful; an angel of death drenched in the downpour of the storm. Bolin's heart seized in his chest at the sight, but the abstract fear he felt was nothing compared to the two benders who'd been about to maim a defenseless child.

But their distress was completely plausible. This person, whomever he was, didn't look like the type to show mercy.

And though Bolin was grateful for being saved, he couldn't help but wince at each blow, almost pitying the firebender and his cohort. Almost. At least the man decided to let them live, even if they were too beaten to appreciate it.

Following their quick defeat, Bolin waited for the stranger to take his leave. Waited to be left alone to tend to his wounds. Instead, the stranger slowly turned towards him, and Bolin's breath caught in his throat when he saw that the man was wearing a mask.

The masked man stretched out a hand towards Bolin, as if attempting to assess his injury. He had saved him, yes, but Bolin was still scared and retreated backwards, wary of the stranger. The masked man gently retracted his arm.

"It's alright," he promised quietly, obscured by the shadows. He spoke without a waver of dishonesty. "These foul opressors are no longer a threat. You are safe now."

Impressed as he was by the stranger's skills, Bolin didn't really agree. There were a million possible foes willing to hurt him in this city, this man included. Even so, even after being taught so diligently in the art of distrust and self-preservation, Bolin was drawn towards the masked man and his wishful promises. However, that didn't mean he was ready to emerge from his shell just yet.

Even after a long moment of silence, the masked man didn't move. Neither did Bolin. He gazed at the man in silence, and though he couldn't really tell with the mask, he swore he could sense another pair of eyes staring back. The sound of rain dominated the alleyway without either of them daring to speak.

Until Bolin's childish curiosity got the best of him, urging him to ask the quiet question,

"Are you all alone?"

It was a question borne from the remaining innocence he clung to. For all he had seen and went through in his short amount of years spent on earth, Bolin still couldn't fathom anything quite so painful as loneliness. Perhaps he had much yet to learn.

Or perhaps he already knew too much.

Slowly, the stranger nodded.

Bolin softened sympathetically. "Me, too."

Funny. He hadn't expected any sort of answer to the curious inquiry, not really. The words just flew from his mouth unbidden—a frightful habit of his. Then again, Bolin was having trouble believing he was even alive at this point, so the masked man's decision to respond may not have been the oddest thing to have happened tonight.

When he actually spoke, though, Bolin tensed

"The rain doesn't seem to be stopping." The masked man's statement was composed matter-of-factly. "You should seek shelter elsewhere, lest you become ill."

Shrugging helplessly, Bolin curled in on himself further, feeling the cold now worse than ever. He winced, mindful of his throbbing arm. "I don't have anywhere else to go," was his meek excuse.

He nearly startled out of his own skin when the man bent down to eye level. Now Bolin truly was trapped. At this proximity, the masked could do whatever he wished. Strangle him, thrash him, knock him unconscious and carry him to some horrible place against his will. And Bolin would have no choice but to accept his fate.

Instead, the stranger spoke in a voice that proved sturdy enough to steady the erratic beat of his heart.

"Then come with me."

This time, when the hand extended to him came forth, Bolin joined it with his own.

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Next chapter will finally be set in the present day. Please, please review, for they keep me writing!


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